His Touch(3)

By: Melinda Minx



“Let’s get out of here,” I say.

“Come on, Hunt,” Dash says. “I’ll go talk to her for you. I saw the way you looked at her.”

I start to walk toward the door, but my dick is a steel rod. It begs me to stay, to give it what it needs.

I grit my teeth until my jaw aches.

“As long as she’s eighteen,” Dash says.

“And if she lies?” I ask.

“Check her I.D.”

I laugh. “How do you think she got in here?”

“Probably that tight fucking dress and those perky-ass tits got her in--”

“Fake I.D., Dash.”

“She’ll have her real one on her, so ask to see both.”

Nah. It’s wrong. I can feel how wrong it is even as my cock gets impossibly harder and my balls ache for her. The last thing I need while I try to save Nadine’s company is to be seen with someone who might still be in high school.

“I’m gonna’ pay the tab and get out of here,” I say.

Dash grabs my arm. “Come on, man, at least wingman for me before you head out.”

I find myself nodding. I don’t really want to help Dash, but I convince myself that he’s the reason I stay. It’s a stupid fucking decision, but I’m not exactly thinking with my brain at this point.

Dash does investigative work for me sometimes, and having him owe me a favor could be valuable once I dig in at Sencorp.

We order some whiskeys and I down mine without really tasting it. I get an immediate head rush and spike of adrenaline streaking through my veins, and then I see a wave of brilliant blue move into the corner of my vision. Without even thinking, I look over.

My eyes rest on her perfect body, and I feel my hand trembling as I put down my empty glass. Some asshole kid is talking to her--a piece of shit in a flannel shirt and a fitted cap who looks too young to even grow a beard.

I see him reach up and grab her bare arm. She tries to move away from him, but his grip tightens.

My blood boils, and I ball my hands up into fists. My feet itch to move, but I resist the urge by squeezing the bar with a death grip.

“Hunt?” Dash’s voice barely cuts through my rage.

The asshole takes a step toward her, still squeezing her arm, and I see her face scrunch up in fear. She looks around for help, but no one is near her. Then her eyes lock onto mine. They widen in desperation, and those big, beautiful lips mouth two words: “Help me.”

Before I even realize it, I’m halfway there, shoving through everyone standing in the way.

I’m already reaching up toward the piece of shit, and I make no effort to stop myself now.

Just as his hand grabs for her waist, I grab his shoulder.

“Step off,” I say.

He turns to look at me. His cheeks are red and his eyes are swimming in a drunken haze. “Fuck off, old man.”

He slaps my hand off his shoulder, and he pulls the girl into him, squeezing her ass.

I head-butt him, and my skull smashes against his face. He falls backward, while letting go of the girl, and as soon as he’s away from her, I bring my fist up and gut-punch him.

He curls up on himself and collapses to his knees. I kick him in the chest with the tip of my shoe, and that knocks him down for good.

Before I realize what’s happening, I feel warm flesh pressing against my body. I look down and the girl is wrapping her arms tightly around me and squeezing me.

My first instinct is to peel her off, but her perfect tits are pressing right into my abs, and her hands are so damn small and delicate on my back. I find myself putting a hand onto the bare skin at the small of her back and holding her against me protectively.

“Thank you,” she says. “And I’m sorry.”

I loosen my grip on her, and she looks up at me. Those beautiful fucking big blue eyes are just inches from my face now, and her feminine scent is completely overpowering me. I want to pull her back into me and rip that tight dress right off her body, but instead, I just stare into those big eyes and that perfect face.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask. “You didn’t do anything.”

The asshole is still keeled over, and his friends are trying to help him up. None of them dare to even look at me.

“I asked you for help,” she says, “and…”

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